


The Real Fear

by what_the_nesmith



Category: The Monkees, The Monkees (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-05 11:40:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3118805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_the_nesmith/pseuds/what_the_nesmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Davy is having sleeping troubles and Mr. Schneider is the cause. The events escalate until all four boys are really scared. Basically, I thought "Wow Mr. Schneider is a really creepy doll, he looks possessed" and I decided that would work for a fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Monkees fic. I apologize if any of the guys are a bit out of character, but for a first time fic, I'm very proud of this. This chapter is a bit rusty characterization wise, but I get better as I write. This is a fic I'm very proud of and thank you for reading it.

It was really quite dark in the room, despite the little pool of light that the nightlight shining in from the bathroom provided. Davy laid underneath four different blankets, tossing and turning in an attempt to find a comfortable position to sleep in. It was very late and usually Davy slept like a rock. But recently, he had found that he was having trouble falling asleep and staying asleep. At first, Davy hadn’t understood why and had passed it off as nothing, after all it could have been simple insomnia or stress, but after awhile Davy realized what it was that was causing his sleep troubles. It was that creepy doll that the guys and himself had lying around the house, Mr. Schneider. Davy had come to this realization after waking up from a fitful sleep in the middle of the night to find that Mr. Schneider had somehow climbed out of his usual chair and had situated himself right outside of Davy’s door. Although he had originally passed it off as one of the guys having a laugh or something, but every night now, if Davy woke up, he’d see Mr. Schneider leaning against the door frame, even if he shut the door before going to bed. 

The implications of this scared Davy to death. He couldn’t sleep and without sleep he was practically useless to his bandmates. Davy didn’t want to be useless to his friends, especially because any day an important gig could come around and if Davy couldn’t get his sleep he would be unable to perform, which would thereupon reflect on that of his groupmates. Honestly, Davy was just tired. And all he wanted to do was sleep but he couldn’t sleep because he constantly felt Mr. Schneider’s eyes on him at night. And the worst part was that Peter didn’t seem to notice anything. At night, Davy’s fellow bandmate was as unconscious as a rock when he slept in the bed across from Davy’s. Davy felt like he was going crazy. Usually, it was Peter who had nightmares or was frightened by the dark, not Davy.

So it wasn’t really a surprise when one night, Davy threw off his covers and stormed over to the doorway where Mr. Schneider stood (or, more exactly, leaned). He grabbed the dummy’s arm with both hands and began yanking the dummy towards the nearest closet. Davy wasn’t going to take any more of this. He’d get a good nights sleep even if it killed him. Just as he neared the closet door, Davy heard a voice behind him.

“Hey, what’re you doing with Mr. Schneider, Davy?” asked Micky, eyes nearly closed. He was sipping at a glass of water. Davy leaned Mr. Schneider against the wall next to the door to the closet. 

“Well, ya see, I…,” Davy began, grasping for words. His hands began to sweat a little. If he told Micky the truth, there was no way he would believe him. If anything, Micky would be likely to make fun of him. But then again, Davy didn’t want to lie to Micky. Micky swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand to wipe away the sleep. 

“Are you putting Mr. Schneider into the closet?” Micky questioned, downing the last of the water in the glass. 

“Yes, umm, I am, but you see-,” Davy started but Micky interrupted with, “Why on earth would you do that?” Davy glanced at the dummy that was leaned against the wall and then back to his friend. 

“Well, I’m…,” Davy started, his voice getting quiet, “He’s been watching me sleep and… well I’m afraid I suppose.” Micky stared at Davy for the longest time with an unreadable expression. Then he broke out into a grin. 

“Aw man Davy, how can you be afraid of Mr. Schneider?” he chuckled, wandering over to the kitchen table to put his cup down. 

“He keeps on walking about at night and… and he watches me sleep,” Davy explained, feeling sheepish. Even though Davy was sure in his conclusion that Mr. Schneider was moving around at night, he still clung to the hope that maybe it was one of the fellows playing a bad joke on him. Saying aloud his worst fear, well it just sounded silly even to Davy. It made him reconsider his conclusion, that perhaps he was too tired to think properly. 

“Oh, Davy, Mr. Schneider’s just a dummy,” Micky pointed out, poking one of Mr. Schneider’s arm for emphasis. 

“I know that Mick but then how do you explain him getting from his usual seat to being propped up against the doorframe to my room?” Davy demanded. Micky frowned slightly, hearing the edge to his friend’s voice. All of them had noticed Davy’s sleep problem. He’d been irritable and groggy and yesterday he had even fallen asleep at the breakfast table, right into his cereal. 

“Dunno man,” Micky shrugged after a moment, not sure how to proceed with the conversation. He didn’t want to upset Davy or anything, but it was a ridiculous notion. Mr. Schneider getting up and walking around… that was just crazy. 

“Are you suggesting you aren’t the one moving him about then?” prompted Davy, placing his hands on his hips. 

“Mm, I mean, like, no why would I move him around, I need sleep,” replied Micky, pulling a confused face in an attempt to lighten the mood. It did not appear to be working though. Just then, Peter appeared at the doorframe of Davy and his shared bedroom. 

“Hey guys, is everything alright?” he asked, his brow creased with a frown. 

“Davy’s putting Mr. Schneider into the closet cos he’s apparently been walking around by his own,” Micky answered. Peter raised a questioning eyebrow in Davy’s direction. All of them had noticed Davy’s sleep troubles, but Peter never would have guessed Mr. Schneider being the causation of it all. Sure, Peter had always found him a bit creepy, but Mr. Schneider was just a wooden dummy.

“Look, guys, it’s nothing, forget I said anything,” Davy mumbled, wanting nothing more than to have this behind him already.

“Hey what are y’all up for? It’s like one in the morning,” Mike suddenly boomed, leaning over the staircase railing, giving each of them disapproving looks seen even in the gloom. 

“Davy’s putting Mr. Schneider into the closet cos he’s apparently been walking around by his own,” Micky repeated. 

“Shut up Mick,” Davy snapped, irritated that Micky would tell Mike that. Mike would surely laugh at that notion. Out of all of them, Michael was the most rational, therefore he would not even think to believe Davy’s worst nightmare. Mike, Micky, and Peter were all a bit taken aback by Davy’s little outburst. It was very uncharacteristic for Davy to lash out like that, even taking into account his recent depletion of rest.

“There isn’t anything to be upset about Davy,” Peter reassured his friend. Davy nodded, running a hand through his hair, apologizing, “Yeah, I know, sorry Micky.” 

“Now, Davy, you tell me why you’re putting Mr. Schneider into the closet,” Mike began, and added after seeing Davy’s pained expression, “And don’ you worry about it sounding silly, the guys and me won’t laugh at you one bit, we promise, don’t we fellas?” Both Peter and Micky nodded in agreement, saying yes and yea several times to make sure the point was made. Davy looked down at his feet for a moment. 

“Well… you all have probably noticed my trouble sleeping. And… and see I figured out it was Mr. Schneider keeping me up. I can’t fall asleep with his… his eyes on me see, and well… I thought if maybe I put him in the closet he wouldn’t be able to get up and watch me sleep,” Davy finally explained, quietly and slowly, as if he were explaining to his mother how he had broken her favorite lamp. Peter couldn’t help but worry. It was a very odd thing to believe, but at the same time, Peter was more worried that Davy was right. If he was right, then that meant something terrifying, Peter knew that much. 

“Okay… okay Davy. See, none of us laughed. Now… now well I guess if you think it’s gonna help you get some shut eye, you can go on right ahead putting Mr. Schneider into the closet and we’ll all get back into bed and then you can get some rest and all that,” said Mike, his hands randomly gesturing about himself. Davy nodded and picked up Mr. Schneider from where he was leaned, opening the closet door and then giving the dummy a little shove. It fell into the closet with a loud thunk. Micky kicked the closet closed for Davy, to show him that he didn’t have to be embarrassed by anything, and gave him a sympathetic pat on the back. 

“Let’s all try to get some sleep now,” Peter suggested. Davy nodded mutely and shuffled back into his bedroom. One last time, Peter, Micky, and Mike exchanged worried glances. None of them were entirely sure of how to handle this. In one scenario, Davy was just having trouble sleeping and was projecting his fears upon the dummy. But in another scenario, Mr. Schneider really was getting up at night and watching Davy. For Mike and Micky, the first option seemed the most likely but for Peter… well Peter could fathom a scenario where Mr. Schneider was coming to life. It was quite terrifying and made the bassist shiver, but he could still imagine it. As Micky and Mike headed upstairs, back to their bedroom, Peter cracked opened the closet door. Mr. Schneider lay on his back, lifeless eyes staring at the closet ceiling. Peter regarded the dummy for a moment before securely shutting the closet door and heading back into the bedroom. Davy was sprawled on his bed, already snoring. Peter shut and locked the bedroom door before going over to Davy and tucking him into bed. 

~~

“Micky, you better get out here and help me carry these bags in!” Mike shouted from the front stoop. Four bags was quite a lot for a regular run to the store, but in this case Mike had gone out of desperation. That morning had resulted in stale toast and water for breakfast since someone had forgotten to do their share of grocery runs. That someone was namely Micky Dolenz. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming, hold your horses,” Micky grumbled, stomping over to the front door and squeezing past Mike as he entered the house with two brown paper bags in the crook of each arm. Peter was sat at the breakfast table, running a hand through his hair and stealing glances at the door to his and Davy’s bedroom. 

“Hey Peter,” Mike said, placing the bags onto the counter. Micky was stomping his way over to the table as well, with two bags of his own. 

“Hey Mike,” Peter answered. Micky began unpacking the grocery bags and putting away the items they contained. As Mike put away a few canned goods, he asked, “What’s wrong Pete?” Peter rubbed the back of his neck. 

“I don’t think Davy’s gotten out of bed yet today is all,” Peter explained. Micky stroked his chin, mocking someone stroking a beard. 

“By jove Peter, I think you’ve cracked the case,” he joked, before putting the last of his portion of the groceries away. 

“I’m being serious,” Peter insisted. 

“Well, Pete, man, he hasn’t been sleeping a lot these past couple of days, so maybe he’s finally getting caught up,” pointed out Mike. This was true, in fact it made a lot of sense, but there was something that was nagging Peter. A feeling tugging at the back of his mind. It was telling Peter that something wasn’t all together right. But he didn’t want to bother Micky or Mike, especially considering neither of them seemed to be worried about Davy, so he just sighed, “That makes sense.” Micky gave Peter a pat on the back. 

“Don’t sweat it man, Davy’ll be alright,” he assured him, “He’ll be up and around flirting like there was no tomorrow in no time, just like he always is.” Peter nodded, but he didn’t feel very reassured. A couple of hours passed and Peter found himself sitting on one of the steps to the alcove, strumming his bass in sync with Mike’s little tune. The two of them were waiting for Micky to find his drumsticks, which for some reason he had lost the night before. 

“Found them! Sorry, found them!” Micky called out from upstairs. He came racing down, nearly tripping over his own feet, and stumbled to a halt before making his way to his drumset. 

“Where’d ya find them?” Peter asked out of curiosity. 

“Under my bed,” Micky shrugged. Mike rolled his eyes, not even wanting to know how Micky’s drumsticks had made their way underneath his bed upstairs. Despite no one asking, Micky commented, “They musta found a pair of dust bunnies that caught their eye.” He winked and waggled his eyebrows.

“Okay, okay, let’s practice,” said Mike, with a roll of his eyes. Micky nodded, sitting down and giving a little rat-a-tat. 

“Hey, wait you guys, what about Davy?” questioned Peter, leaning his guitar up against the wall next to him and standing. 

“I thought we’d just get some practice in and let him sleep,” Mike replied. Peter rubbed his cheek. It was late afternoon, nearly evening, and still Davy hadn’t woken up, or at the very least he hadn’t left the bedroom yet. 

“I think I’m going to go check on him, okay? I’m really worried about him,” Peter announced. 

“Aw c’mon Peter, let the little man sleep,” said Micky. Mike waved a hand at Micky, saying, “I’ll come check on him with ya, and you’ll see that there ain’t no reason to worry about Davy.” Peter nodded, rubbing at the underneath of his chin as he and Mike made their way over to the bedroom door, followed after a moment by Micky. Peter went to knock on the door, but Mike caught his hand before he could make any noise. Mike put a finger to his lips and then cautiously creaked open the door, wide enough so that all three of them could see into the room of course. The curtain was closed but the room was always lit up during the daytime. Davy’s one leg was hanging over the edge of the bed and he was gently snoring. 

“See Peter, nothing to worry about. Davy’s just exhausted,” Mike remarked, gesturing towards Davy’s sleeping form. 

“Yeah, I mean, this is the same guy who fell asleep in his cereal like two days ago,” added Micky, his voice hushed so as to not wake Davy. 

“Okay, I guess I was worried for nothing,” Peter sighed, shutting the door closed. Mike and Micky went back to the alcove, ready to practice, and Peter followed them. During practice, Peter let his mind wander. Even though he’d seen Davy sleeping and understood that he must be exhausted, Peter still couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right. None of them were morning people, but out of all of them Davy was always up in the mornings. Sometimes, he was even up before Mike was, and that was something to be proud of considering how early Michael got up. Or maybe Peter was worried for nothing like Mike had said. It was a possibility, after all it wasn’t like Peter knew everything.


	2. Chapter 2

Micky came in soaking wet and sandy, a towel around his shoulders. As he was headed towards the bathroom to wash off the salt water and sand, he noticed Peter sitting at the dining table. His hands were all over his face. He paused by the bathroom door. 

“Peter, are you still worrying about Davy?” he called out to his friend. Peter blinked several times, as if Micky’s question was snapping him out of a daze, before replying with, “I know I shouldn’t be worrying, but I can’t help it.” 

“Look man, don’t sweat it okay, Davy will be fine and-,” Micky was saying but in the middle of his sentence, the door to Davy and Peter’s bedroom opened up and out shuffled Davy. 

“Speak of the devil! See Peter, Davy’s all better. Now I gotta take a shower before crabs start crawling up my legs,” Micky exclaimed and then bolted into the bathroom. Peter frowned at his friend’s comment, unsure what he had intended it to mean, but then smiled as Davy made his way into the kitchen area. 

“Hi Davy, are you feeling rested now?” he asked. Davy opened the fridge door and peered inside for about a minute. Then he took out the orange juice carton and got a glass out from the cupboard. He began pouring the orange juice into the cup but missed. He stopped and grabbed a nearby towel, mopping up the mess. Then he tried pouring again, this time succeeding. It didn’t seem like Davy had heard Peter, so Peter repeated his question. “Are you feeling rested now, Davy?” Davy took a gulp of the orange juice. It still didn’t seem like Davy had heard Peter or, at least, if Davy had heard Peter he wasn’t giving any signs that he would be responding to Peter’s question any time soon. The front door opened and Mike walked in, flipping through a stack of mail that was most likely just junk, perhaps a few bills, a gig offering if they were lucky. He glanced up and spotted Davy. 

“Hey man, nice to see you up,” he commented. 

“Yeah,” mumbled Davy, before gulping down the last of the orange juice. He dumped the empty cup into the sink and then headed for the door. 

“Where you heading off to Davy?” Mike queried as Davy walked past him. Davy gave no response, merely exited the pad without a second word, letting the door shut behind him. Mike watched him go and then said to Peter, “Huh, that was weird.” 

“Certainly was, he didn’t even answer my question,” agreed Peter, whose right hand was absentmindedly rubbing the small of his neck. Mike frowned, setting the mail on the kitchen table and taking a seat. 

“Ya think he’s okay?” Mike asked. 

“I don’t know, maybe,” Peter shrugged, unsure whether to believe his gut or the evidence that was in front of his face. 

“I hope so,” Mike sighed, only wishing the best for his bandmate, hoping this wouldn’t end in Davy getting ill. 

~~

Later that evening, Micky had set up an elaborate tower of jenga blocks from three separate boxes. This swaying tower was precariously set up on the end table by the lounge chair. Gathered around it, ready to begin quite an epic game of jenga, one that make just make it into record books, was Micky, Peter, and Mike. 

“Okay, no cheating, alright,” Micky warned, grinning from ear to ear. Micky loved playing board games, and had quite the knack for jenga. 

“How in the hell do you cheat at jenga?” Mike wondered aloud. 

“You could put your finger in place of the block,” Peter suggested, inspecting a block that he was thinking about removing when his turn came. 

“Yeah, like that, sure,” Micky yakked, impatiently waiting for Mike to initiate the game. In a lot of the games they played, Mike was the player that went first. And usually, Mike took his time in deciding his moves and counterattacks, depending on the game. After a moment of silence, Mike withdrew a block from the middle. The stack of blocks barely wobbled. Mike smirked and he showed off his good fortune, by putting up his feet and kicking back in the chair. Micky went next, pulling out a block with some trouble. Peter thought that the tower was doomed, a disappointing thought this early in the game, but Micky pulled through and the tower stayed in a straight line.

“Yes!” he shouted. Now it was Peter’s turn and he began to gently ease out the block he had been keeping an eye on. Just as Peter got the last edge of the block out from the stack, the front door opened and in came Davy. He seemed distressed, and still very tired, with dark circles ringing his eyes.

“Hiya Davy,” Mike called out, giving a little wave. 

“Hey, Davy, wanna come join? We’re playing jenga! Look how tall I built the tower this time round,” Micky added, pointing enthusiastically at the block tower. Davy glanced at the tower, a pained expression flitting across his face for just a moment. 

“Very cool,” Davy said, his voice seeming to almost crack. Then he walked past the lounge chair and headed into the bathroom. 

“Wonder what cat’s got his tongue,” Micky pondered before elbowing Mike in the chest in an attempt to get him to bring his attention back to the game. The shower started up. Michael took his turn, then Micky, and then Peter. The tower stayed upright and all three were quite impressed, considering how high Micky had managed to get it to stretch without tumbling over on it’s own. It was about ten minutes into the game, Micky tied with Mike at this point and Peter constantly worried about knocking down the tower, when Davy finally came out of the bathroom. His hair was wet and his PJs looked rumpled. 

“Davy, come on and join this! You’re gonna miss the best game of jenga yet,” Micky cried as he excitedly removed a block for his turn. The tower was beginning to lean sideways. 

“Nah, I think I’m just gonna get some sleep,” came Davy’s reply. 

“You feeling alright Davy?” Mike asked, sitting up in his seat to get a better look at his smaller friend. 

“Yeah, I’m fine Mike,” Davy reassured his friend, although it didn’t sound to Peter like he meant it. 

“Okay, let us know if we can help you or something, alright,” Peter offered. Davy nodded before heading to his room. 

“Peter, it’s your turn,” pointed out Micky. 

“What? Oh yeah,” murmured Peter, before picking a block out of the tower. It wobbled and Micky waited with baited breath for it to topple over but it didn’t. 

“Aw shucks,” Micky remarked. Peter beamed proudly. 

~~

The game of jenga ended when Micky had been too overzealous in taking out one of the blocks after thirty minutes of gameplay. It had taken awhile to clean up but it had been worth it. After the game, Mike had headed up to bed. For a little bit, Micky and Peter just sat around, talking aimlessly. Once Peter had started yawning, Micky suggested that they hit the sack. It sounded like a good idea. So off went Micky to get into bed in his room, while Peter went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. After washing up, he went over to the bedroom door but paused before entering. Was that a voice Peter heard? He pressed his ear to the door, being as quiet as he could so that he could hear. 

“You can’t be serious,” came a voice. Although muffled and very quiet, Peter could tell that the voice belonged to Davy. He sounded upset. There was a low mumble, but Peter couldn’t tell if it was a voice or just a sound. Davy responded, but his voice was too hushed for Peter to make out anything concrete. Who was Davy talking to? Both Mike and Micky were upstairs, Mike probably fast asleep by this point. So if Mike and Micky were upstairs, and Peter was outside the room, who was Davy talking to? Maybe, thought Peter, he was talking to himself. Micky did that sometimes to be funny and Mike did that occasionally when he was frustrated or writing a song. Even Peter talked to himself now and then. But the worrisome feeling that had plagued Peter yesterday had returned. Peter opened the door and found Davy asleep. Peter blinked and rubbed his eyes. Davy was asleep, covers pulled nearly over his head. Strange, thought Peter. He could have sworn Davy had been talking. Maybe it had just been Peter’s imagination. After all, it was quite late. So Peter clambered into bed, exhausted after such an intense game of jenga. Almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, Peter was sound asleep. 

It was still dark in the room when Peter opened his eyes. He wasn’t sure what had woken him but he was awake now, even if it was barely. Peter sat up for a moment, wondering if maybe should go get a drink of water or something, but then Peter saw a figure standing over Davy’s bed. The figure seemed taller than Davy was but not tall enough to be Mike or Micky.

“Davy?” Peter yawned, squinting at the figure to try and see if he could figure out who it was. 

“Go back to bed Peter,” hissed Davy. There was an edge to his voice that Peter wasn’t used to hearing. It wasn’t just fear, it was something more. Peter frowned, then yawned again. 

“Is everything okay?” Peter pressed, despite his drooping eyelids. 

“Peter, please, just go back to bed. Everything’s alright,” insisted Davy. Peter smiled to himself and nodded, even though Davy wouldn’t see that. Peter loved Davy’s voice, it was quite comforting. All his friend’s were a comfort and he wouldn’t want to see them hurt in any fashion. 

“Okay, get to sleep yourself. Love you,” he told Davy and then laid back down, shutting his eyes. When he opened them again, pale sunlight filled the room. He yawned and stretched his arms up above his head. After changing out of his orange bunny pajamas, Peter exited the room. Micky was busy making breakfast, and Mike was already playing around on his guitar. Davy was sat by the coffee table, flicking through some magazine that hadn’t been read in ages. It seemed like a normal enough start to the day. Peter sat down at the dining table and soon enough Micky was calling everyone to breakfast. The guys talked while they ate, although Davy contributed very little to the flow of conversation, quietly eating the oatmeal Micky had slaved over for about an hour (mainly due to burning the first attempt at that morning’s breakfast). Breakfast ended like breakfast’s usually do and Peter helped Micky clean up the dishes. At about noon, Mike suggested that they practice some. Throughout the practice, Mike noticed that Davy didn’t seem into it. Micky felt the absence as well, considering he had thrown out a few class A jokes that would have usually been picked up by Englishman, either through a rebuttal or an extendant. But today Davy didn’t seem to be there with them, not mentally at least. He seemed to be worried about something, a permanent frown creasing his brow. After practice, Davy excused himself and went to his room. 

“C’mon Mike, I think we need to get Davy outside,” Micky stated after the bedroom door had closed, standing up and beginning to waltz out from behind his drum set, “That guy hasn’t seen a woman in days. That’s probably why he’s got his knickers in a twist.” That last sentence was said in a terribly executed, horribly exaggerated British accent courtesy of the one and only Micky Dolenz. 

“Yes! Yes! We could go down to the beach!” Peter clapped his hands together in excitement. Mike put his guitar down, nodding his head in agreement. 

“Okay, that sounds good. Some fresh air might help put Davy back into sorts,” Mike agreed. 

“We could build a sandcastle,” Peter grinned, already thrilled by the idea. 

“Yeah, we could bury Mike in the sand!” Micky threw his arms wide open, almost as if this head been Peter’s suggestion and he was agreeing. Mike gave Micky a glare. 

“That is not happening,” he said. 

“I’m afraid it is, Mike my old pal,” Micky deadpanned, giving Mike a slap on the back before leaping off the slightly raised platform that was the alcove to run up the stairs to go put on his swimming trunks. Mike shook his head and then stood up. He knocked on Davy’s door before opening it. Davy was sat on his bed, running his hands through his hair, not seeming to have noticed Mike’s entrance. Everything about Davy seemed tense, as if the Englishman were a coiled up spring. Sitting next to him on the bed was, believe it or not, Mr. Schneider. 

“Hey shotgun, we’re all goin’ down to the beach, wanna come?” Mike asked, a slight frown creasing his brow. Davy jerked upright and looked at Mike with wide, round eyes. In those eyes, Mike saw a mixture of fear, guilt, and worry. But the look quickly dissipated as Davy stood up, brushing off his jeans. 

“Oh hi, um, no thanks Mike, I think I’ll just stay here, ya know, relax an’ all that,” Davy stammered, hands not sure what to do until they fell into his pockets. 

“What’s Mr. Schneider doin’ in here? Thought you was afraid of him,” Mike inquired, peering around Davy to get a good look at Mr. Schneider. The dummy was leaned against the wall that Davy’s bed was shoved up against. Davy threw a glance over his shoulder toward the wooden dummy. 

“Um, well see I just thought that maybe, since he frightened me, that maybe if I, erm, I looked at him more he’d, umm, be less frightening, yes…?” Davy answered. Mike wasn’t sure if he was asking him a question or if that was truly his answer though. Mike nodded slowly. 

“I see… so you comin’ with us?” he asked instead of pressing the issue, considering how uncomfortable and tense Davy seemed. Peter popped out from behind Mike. 

“Come on Davy, it’d do you some good to get out into the sunshine!” the bassist chirped cheerily. Davy threw another glance back to Mr. Schneider. 

“No, I think I’d like it much better-,” Davy began but Peter interrupted him. 

“We’re gonna build a sandcastle and Micky’s going to bury Mike in the sand and you can talk to some girls and we can all have a really lovely afternoon together,” he added. Mike nodded, although the look he gave Peter made it known that Mike was not going to allow Micky to get anywhere near him in order to bury him. Davy opened his mouth to deny the offer a third time but Mike cut him off before he could begin. 

“Don’t make me carry ya outta here. Peter and Micky will hold your feet, and I’ll get yer arms, and we’ll carry you down to the beach if we have ta,” Mike warned him, fixing Davy with a serious look, although the warning was semi-meant as more of a joke. 

“Alright, alright, fine, but only for a little bit, yeah,” Davy finally sighed, caving in. Peter clapped his hands together and inched behind Mike, slipping into the room. He went over to his dresser and opened a drawer, pulling out a pair of swimming trunks. As he exited the room, Peter said, “I’ll go change in the bathroom, you can change in here, and Mike can go change upstairs cos Micky’s already ready.” Then he skipped to the bathroom.


	3. Chapter 3

Mike almost had to follow through with his warning from earlier but eventually the guys convinced Davy to come with them to the beach (with a little manpower courtesy of Micky) and soon enough the four friends were out on the beach. It was late afternoon and the beach traffic had thinned so the boys practically had the beach all to themselves. Peter and Micky went swimming, while Mike sat with Davy on a blanket he had brought just for that purpose. Eventually, the other two managed to pry themselves away from the water to come back up to the sand and Peter insisted they all contribute to building a sandcastle. While Peter was very invested in making the sandcastle, Micky continuously tried to bury Mike in the sand and, halfway through construction, a pair of girls came strolling by. All three boys noticed Davy’s mood change. He was smiling, enjoying himself. He even chatted with the girls for a long while and got one of their numbers. Peter was relieved to see that change in his friend, and even more happy to see the other two happy as well. 

“Mike, hold still!” Micky shouted as he tried to dump enough sand onto Michael’s lap to begin the burying process once more. Mike leapt to his feet, causing the sand to fly into Micky’s face. Micky merely brushed it away and stood up as well. 

“Seriously Mick, you better quit it right now or I’ll sock you,” Mike warned. Micky scooped up a handful of sand and said, in the best official voice he could muster, “C’mon Nesmith, lemme bury you. I promise not to bury your head.” 

“You ain’t burying me Micky!” Mike insisted. 

“Then let’s fight! I win, I bury you, and if you win, I don’t,” Micky suggested. 

“Okay,” Mike agreed, putting his hands up in a fight stance. 

“Oh guys, don’t fight,” Peter pleaded, unsure whether it was serious or not. Micky glanced at Peter and winked, before whirling around and picking up Davy. Davy gave out a cry of shock and then demanded that Micky put him down right exactly now. Laughing, Micky exclaimed, “Quick Mike, grab Peter and follow me!” Then Micky took off, sprinting towards the ocean. Catching onto what was happening, Peter laughed and stood up, about ready to take off after Micky, but then Mike picked him up instead. 

“Mike, no, I’m too big to carry!” Peter protested. Mike headed after their other two friends, saying to Peter, “Don’t sweat it okay, it’s all part of the plan.” Once he caught up to Micky, Mike stood there, holding Peter, who felt like he was going to make Mike topple over. 

“Okay, on three we throw them!” Micky announced. 

“Don’t you dare Micky, put me down right now!” Davy shrieked, giving Micky a few hits on the back in a feeble attempt to make the drummer release him. 

“Okay, got it,” Mike confirmed, grinning. 

“One… two… three!” Micky counted down and then with a loud bellow of a yell, he tossed Davy into the ocean. The smallest Monkee landed in a wave with a splosh and came spluttering up to the surface a moment later. At the same time, Mike attempted to throw Peter, but due to size he technically only managed to drop him a foot or so away. 

“Oh now you’re in for it Dolenz!” Davy cried, storming as fast as he could back to where Micky stood. Mike laughed as Davy pounced on Micky, bringing him under the water for a second or two and then letting him come up for air. The two began to tussle in the water and Mike joined in a little by splashing water on the two of them. Peter treaded water where he was, feet brushing the ocean floor as he did so, grinning broadly at the sight of his friends. After a few minutes, Mike suggested that they get out of the water and finish up the sandcastle. 

“Yay!” Peter exclaimed and rushed out of the ocean, back up to where their almost finished sandcastle was. 

“You guys wanna eat down here tonight, watch the sunset or something?” Davy asked as they all began to finish the castle. 

“Sounds like a plan,” grinned Mike. 

“I’ll go fix up some sandwiches and I’ll bring them down with some soda,” Micky offered. 

“Bring a pencil and a napkin,” said Peter, who was staring intensely at the sandcastle before him. 

“Why?” Micky asked. 

“The castle needs a flag,” pointed out Peter, touching his finger to the highest tower on the castle. 

“Right! So we can proclaim it the Dolenz Estate!” Micky cried out, throwing his arms wide. 

“Just go get the food dummy,” Mike chuckled, throwing some sand at Micky’s legs. Micky stuck his tongue out at Mike before jogging back up to the pad to get dinner. As Micky left, the others got back to finishing the sandcastle. Just as the sun was getting ready to set, Micky returned with a folded up blanket. He flopped down onto the blanket the others were sitting on and opened up the blanket he had brought. Handing out the sandwiches, Micky took a moment to admire the sandcastle. 

“Thanks Mick,” Mike, Davy, and Peter nearly said in unison as they accepted the sandwiches. 

“Did you bring the napkin and pencil?” Peter asked excitedly, after taking a bite of his sandwich. Micky grinned and handed Peter his flag materials. 

“There ya go!” he said.

“Thanks Micky!” Peter exclaimed. He balanced his sandwich on his knee and quickly scribbled something onto the napkin. The others ate and watched as Peter stuck the sharper end of the pencil through the napkin and then stuck the new “flag” into the highest tower of the castle. 

“What’s it say Pete?” Davy asked, squinting at the new flag. 

“It says peace for all,” Peter grinned, taking a bite out of his sandwich proudly. Micky leaned over to look at the flag and then stifled a laugh. 

“Hey Peter, why’s it four instead of for?” Micky inquired. 

“What’d you mean?” Peter frowned, looking at his flag to see what Micky was talking about. Micky pointed to the word four.

“You spelt four with a u, as in the number, when you should have spelt it without a u for for,” Micky explained. Red coloured in Peter’s cheeks as he saw the misspelling. 

“I betcha Pete was meaning four as in the four of us, weren’t ya Peter?” Mike offered, seeing his friend’s embarrassment. At the notion of that, Peter nodded sheepishly, grateful for the option of escape. Micky nudged Peter in the ribs.

“Good one Peter,” Micky laughed. 

“Good one yourself, Micky,” grumbled Davy with a smirk, making a mock face of disgust when Micky looked over at him as he swallowed a bite of the sandwich Micky had made. 

“What’s that supposed to mean then?” Micky demanded, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re such a chef,” teased Davy. That comment sparked a little debate which involved a bit of sand throwing, nearly crashing into the carefully built sandcastle, and finally resulting in slightly sandy sandwiches. The sun was almost behind the horizon by the time the boys were ready to pack it up. Twilight was upon them and the beach was devoid of all human life. Peter wrapped up the blanket they had been sitting on while Davy was helping Mike get his hat back from Micky, who had thought it would be humorous to steal it from the guitarist. Once they were all ready to head back up to the pad, and once Micky had finally given back Mike’s hat, Peter asked, “Do you guys think the castle will still be here tomorrow?” Micky wrapped an arm around Peter’s shoulder. 

“Maybe Peter, if the gnomes don’t invade it in the night,” Micky explained, waggling his eyebrows. Peter’s eyes went a little wider.

“He’s kidding Pete,” Mike assured the bassist, adding, “I think it should still be standin’ if the tide don’t come in and eat at it a little while we’re sleepin’.” 

“If you want, we can come down here in the morning before breakfast to see how it faired during the night,” Davy offered. Peter really brightened up upon hearing that. 

“Oh I’d love that Davy,” Peter smiled. Once they entered the pad, Micky headed straight for the bathroom. 

“I guess we’re gonna have to wait,” Mike shrugged, sitting down at the dining table and picking up a pack of cards that had been left on the table, presumably by Micky. Peter followed suit and sat down next to Mike. It took both of them awhile to realize that Davy seemed very frightened. Mike was about to ask what was wrong, worried that perhaps Davy wasn’t feeling well or something, when Peter tapped on his arm and pointed towards the front door. Mr. Schneider was sat in a chair. A frown creased Mike’s brow. 

“How… how did Mr. Schneider get there?” he asked, throwing a look back to the open bedroom door. No one had been in the pad since the boys had left, altogether, to go down to the beach. The only time someone was in the house was when Micky came back to make the sandwiches and get the requested flag materials. Had Micky moved Mr. Schneider? Davy was tense, frozen in fear. Peter didn’t want Davy to be scared. He stood up and tapped on Davy’s shoulder. 

“Come and sit down with Mike and me, Davy,” Peter suggested, tugging at Davy’s shirt sleeve. Davy didn’t respond. He seemed terrified, his eyes glued to Mr. Schneider. 

“He moved,” Davy whispered after a moment. 

“Maybe Micky moved him,” Mike suggested, a frown still creasing his brow. Davy shook his head. 

“No… no he moves on his own and I can’t…,” Davy nearly sobbed. Peter put his arms around Davy, wrapping him in a protective hug. 

“We’ll get rid of him, right Mike? We’ll put him in the garbage bin and garbage day is tomorrow and he’ll be gone,” Peter exclaimed. Mike stood, seeing that he might need to calm down both Peter and Davy at this point, and walked over to them. 

“Yeah, that’s right Pete, we can do that right now,” Mike assured him, “You and I can take him out right now. Ya’d like that Davy?” Davy was silent for a moment before replying with, “Yes, I… I really would Mike.” Michael nodded and pried Peter off of Davy. 

“Okay Pete, pick up the dummy’s legs and I’ll handle his shoulders,” Mike instructed. Peter did as he was told and the two of them carried Mr. Schneider out the front door, down the driveway, and placed him on top of the garbage bags that were in the garbage bin. 

“Mike, can I ask you something?” Peter asked as Mike was shutting the bin lid. 

“Shoot,” Mike replied. 

“Do you think Davy’s right? Do you think Mr. Schneider… got up and walked?” Peter questioned, running a hand over his chin. Michael looked at Peter for a moment, thinking. 

“Well, I don’t exactly know… I don’t think Micky would torture Davy like this, and I don’t think either of us did it. And if it was someone else, that means we’d be having robbers and they wouldn’t be interested in just moving round a wooden dummy… so… maybe, but that’s all behind us now. Mr. Schneider will be taken away with the garbage tomorrow and that will be that,” Mike finally answered. The look Peter was giving Mike made it seem like that answer wasn’t good enough for him, so he added, “What do you think?” 

“I think he’s right,” Peter shrugged, his voice hushed. Mike wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that. For a moment, the two of them stood there quietly and then Mike said, “Well, we’ve had weirder things happen.” He then smiled at Peter and took the bassist’s hand. 

“C’mon Pete, let’s get inside, Micky should be finished with his shower,” he suggested. Peter nodded, giving the garbage can one last look. Then the two boys walked back inside. Micky had indeed gotten out of the shower and was dressed in his PJs. Davy was nowhere in the room but the shower was on. 

“Guys, what the hell happened to Davy? He was nearly crying,” Micky wanted to know as soon as Peter and Mike entered the pad. 

“Mr. Schneider moved from the bedroom to that seat right there and it scared Davy,” Peter explained, pointing to where Mr. Schneider had sat only a few minutes earlier, “And so me and Michael, we took Mr. Schneider outside and put him in the trash.” Micky opened his mouth and then closed it, looking from Mike and Peter. 

“You didn’t move Mr. Schneider when you came up to make the sandwiches, did ya Micky?” Mike inquired, trying to make the point that even Mike himself had finally gave in to. 

“What? Of course I wouldn’t do that!” Micky cried out, hands going to his hips, “I mean, it’s not funny when someone’s scared, that’s just not cool man.” 

“Then the only other explanation is that Mr. Schneider was up an walkin’ by himself,” Mike concluded with a nod of his head. Micky rubbed his chin but didn’t argue. It made sense to him but still… 

“If he’s able to move around like some possessed doll,” Micky began, miming a robot for a moment, “Then what’s gonna stop him from climbing outta that trash can?” Peter jumped slightly and grabbed onto Mike, frightened by the idea of Mr. Schneider getting out of the trash can and coming after them. 

“Calm down guys, Mr. Schneider probably won’t be getting out of the trash bin, plus we’ll lock the doors and windows just in case,” Mike reassured the two of them. For a brief moment, they just stood there, each quietly thinking their own thoughts, then Micky suggested, “How about we play some Go Fish?” 

“Yes!” Peter agreed, ready to get his mind off of such terrible thoughts like Mr. Schneider coming to life. Mike thought it was a good idea too, so they sat down at the dining table and Micky dealt out the cards. A couple of minutes later, Davy exited the bathroom, clad in his PJS and looking better than earlier. He surveyed the room and gave a small smile of relief when he couldn’t see any sign of the wooden dummy.

“Davy, swap in for me will ya,” Mike told him as he headed to the bathroom to take his shower. 

“Sure Mike,” Davy said in response and sat down where Mike had been seated. 

“We’re playing Go Fish,” Micky informed Davy, taking his turn after that. 

“We got rid of Mr. Schneider, Davy,” Peter added after a round, “So you won’t have to be afraid anymore.” 

“Yeah and by tomorrow morning, that dumdum of a dummy will be long gone,” Micky whistled, proud of himself for thinking of ‘dumdum of a dummy’. 

“That’s good,” Davy chuckled. Although he seemed better, Peter could still see that Davy wasn’t entirely himself still. There was something that he wasn’t saying, something that Peter thought Davy needed to say but couldn’t. Peter didn’t wanna press Davy quite yet, so he decided that he’d ask Davy before they went to bed. Almost six minutes later, Mike was out of the shower and Peter was in. It wasn’t long before all four boys were just sitting around the dining table, finishing up the game of Go Fish. 

“Hey, Mike, who’s getting groceries tomorrow morning?” Micky asked as they were cleaning up the cards. 

“Umm… well I think Peter, right?” Mike answered, looking at Peter for confirmation. 

“Yup, I am,” Peter gave the affirmative. 

“Can you bring back breakfast?” Micky asked, batting his eyes at Peter. Peter nodded, always happy to do what his friends wanted. 

“Do you want me to bring back donuts or bagels?” Peter asked. 

“Donuts,” Davy and Micky said in unison. Mike rolled his eyes. 

“You guys, donuts are expensive,” Mike pointed out. Micky pouted. 

“Well, not if Peter gets the cheap kind. We don’t exactly need the good kind,” Davy countered. Micky nodded his head vigorously.

“I guess that’s true… alright, but only because it’s been a weird couple of days,” Mike caved in. 

“Yay!” Peter, Davy, and Micky cheered. After some time, the boys decided it was time for them to all go to bed, so that’s precisely what they did. Micky and Mike said their goodnights to Davy and Peter, and vice versa of course. Then they parted ways, going to their respective bedrooms. Once Peter and Davy were settled, Peter thought that now might be a good idea to ask what was bothering Davy. 

“Psst, Davy, are you still awake?” he asked into the darkness of the room. The light that the nightlight in the bathroom usually provided seemed to be gone. 

“Trying not to be,” Davy replied. 

“Can I ask you a question before you go to sleep?” Peter questioned. 

“I suppose, yes,” Davy answered. 

“Why did Mr. Schneider scare you? I mean… you don’t have to answer but earlier… you didn’t seem all that relieved that he was gone, and you seem like you aren’t telling us something and I just was wondering what that was because me and Mike and Micky, well we’re all here to help you. That’s what we do, ya know,” said Peter, unsure how to word his question so he sort of just let most of his thoughts out. There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment, before Davy answered. 

“I… I’m sorry Peter, but I can’t tell you. It… I am relieved that he’s gone but I can’t tell you anything else,” Davy answered. 

“You can’t say… so does that mean there is something you aren’t saying?” Peter queried, frowning slightly. Again, there was a long silence before Davy said, “Just get some sleep okay, Peter. I’m tired.” 

“Okay, goodnight Davy,” Peter mumbled, pulling the blankets up to his ears. 

“Goodnight Peter,” he heard Davy say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be posting the rest of the fic tomorrow fyi for anyone who cares. Thank you for reading so far!


	4. Chapter 4

Micky woke up to a very loud crash that came from downstairs. He was slow to wake up but then there was a shout and Micky bolted upright, his blood chilled and a sick feeling swirling in his stomach. 

“Mike. Mike what was that?” Micky hissed. There was no response. Micky reached over to the nightstand next to his bed and switched on the light. The light revealed Mike’s bed empty, the covers nearly thrown off the bed. Micky scrambled out of bed, pulling on his robe. 

“Mike?” Micky asked, going to the bedroom door. Just then, there came another very loud crash. Micky threw open the door and ran downstairs. It was very dark in the pad and Micky nearly tripped over a chair. It took him awhile to find a lamp but once he did he turned it on to see Davy and Peter’s bedroom door wide open. 

“Guys? Davy? Mike? Peter?” Micky called out, creeping towards the open door. Something wasn’t right here. The inside of the room was pitch black. 

“Hello?” Micky asked, his voice seeming to get very quiet, even though he was sure he wasn’t getting any quieter willingly. There was no response. Micky went into the room. It was laid out the same as his and Mike’s room, so he deftly made his way to the nearest bedside table, which just so happened to be Peter’s. Micky fumbled around in the darkness until he found the light’s switch. Light illuminated the room. Micky nearly screamed when he saw Davy. 

“Jesus Davy, don’t do that. Why didn’t you answer me when I was calling out for someone?” Micky demanded. Davy was silent, staring vacantly at Micky. It was making him very uncomfortable, to say the least. 

“Hey Davy, you, umm, you feeling okay there buddy?” Micky asked gently, slowly backing up, easing his way back to the doorway. Davy continued to merely stare. 

“Davy?” Micky repeated. 

“I’m so sorry, Mick,” Davy whispered finally. 

“For what?” Micky inquired. Davy pointed to the floor. Micky looked down. Peter and Mike were on the floor, eyes closed and mouths open. They seemed like they were sleeping. Something in the back of his mind was telling Micky something wasn’t right. 

“Get out Micky, before he knows you’re still here,” Davy shouted suddenly. Micky’s head shot up. 

“Who’re you talking about?” Micky asked. 

“Get out! Run Micky! He knows you’re here!” Davy screamed, lunging forward and pushing Micky backwards. He nearly tripped but managed to keep himself upright. For a moment, Micky swore he saw Mr. Schneider standing behind Davy. It was a dream, wasn’t it. Micky turned and he began to run towards the door, but his feet were beginning to sink into the wooden floor boards as if they were made of tar. It was a dream, wasn’t it. He heard Davy yelling at him to run, to get out before it was too late. Why was he dreaming about this? He’d sank up to his chest. He was going to be drowned by the floor. In another situation, Micky would find this funny. But not in this one. The floor boards were up to his neck now. He took a large breath and… 

“Micky, wake up man!” Mike shouted, shaking Micky by the shoulders. Micky’s eyes flew open and he nearly head butted Mike. 

“Calm down man, you were just dreaming,” Mike informed him, as Micky looked around. 

“I was dreaming… I knew that,” Micky sighed before laying back in his bed. 

“You were crying out in your sleep, you okay?” Mike inquired. 

“Are Davy and Peter alright?” asked Micky in response. 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t they be?” answered Michael, wondering what exactly it was that Micky had been dreaming about. 

“I had a bad dream is all, and you guys were in there,” shrugged Micky, trying to pass it off as nothing. It had been a bad dream, in fact it had been an extremely weird bad dream, but a dream nonetheless.

“I see… well we’re all safe so you just go back to sleep,” Mike reassured him before standing up and crawling back into his own bed. 

“Okay, see you in the morning Mike,” Micky called out. 

“Night Mick,” Mike mumbled, nearly asleep already. Soon enough, Micky could hear Mike breathing softly, a sure sign that the guitarist was fast asleep. Micky wasn’t sure if he wanted to go back to sleep. The dream hadn’t been a good one and Micky wasn’t sure if he went back to sleep now, he’d be returned right back to the same dream. So for awhile he stared at the ceiling, thinking about the day’s events and wondering what his dream meant. As he laid there thinking, he could have sworn he heard someone at the front door, like a soft knock loud enough to be heard upstairs. But it was too soft to be sure that is was indeed a knock. The house was quiet besides that for a few minutes. Then there was another sound by the front door. And… footsteps? Micky wasn’t sure. Had he heard the front door open? No, the door would be more loud and Micky would have heard it more clearly. It was late and he needed some sleep, no matter what kind of dream he had. So Micky rolled onto his stomach, shut his eyes, and went to sleep.

~~

Peter woke up smiling. He’d had a pleasant dream and couldn’t wait to inform his friends about it. He sat up, stretched a little, and got dressed. Then he checked the clock. It was surprisingly earlier than Peter had thought, around 6:30. As he was doing that, he noticed that Davy’s bed was empty. A sink feeling of dread flooded Peter’s stomach. Peter exited the room and, at first saw no one. It felt pretty weird to be up before anyone else but that also raised the question of where Davy was. Perhaps he was in the bathroom. Peter wondered if he should go to the shops now and come back with breakfast before the others woke, if he could manage that. As he thought, he headed towards the kitchen to double check inventory and stopped dead in his tracks. Sitting at the dining table was Davy, which wasn’t all that unusual of course. What was quite shocking though was the red haired dummy sitting next to Davy. 

“Good morning, Peter!” Davy greeted him. Although he was smiling, Peter didn’t think that it was a smile Davy would smile, and that made Peter uncomfortable. 

“Morning… Davy,” Peter said uncertainly, inching over to the kitchen area to take inventory. Mr. Schneider seemed to be staring at him. 

“Something wrong, Pete?” Davy asked. Peter paled a little, his palms beginning to sweat. 

“Umm… no I just… what’re you doing with Mr. Schneider?” Peter questioned, inclining his head towards the dummy. Davy didn’t even seemed phased. He was just smiling that unnerving smile, and Peter didn’t like feeling unnerved by a smile from Davy because Davy had a very wonderful smile. 

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re frightened by a wooden dummy,” Davy scoffed. 

“N-no…?” Peter squeaked, very confused with this situation. What had changed? Hadn’t Davy been close to tears at the sight of Mr. Schneider last night but now he was calmly, even happily, sitting next to the dummy. Not wishing to look at the dummy anymore, Peter began to take stock of all the groceries they had and all the groceries they needed more of. For a little bit, there was just silence and Peter’s heart beating quickly in his chest. Then Peter heard someone coming down the stairs and he turned around. It was Mike, dressed in a shirt and jeans, his green hat on his head. 

“Mike!” Peter exclaimed but caught himself before he sprinted over to the guitarist. 

“Morning Pete,” Mike greeted, frowning at Davy and Mr. Schneider. Peter walked as calmly and as normally as he could over to Mike. 

“Mike, I think Davy… brought Mr. Schneider back into the house… or he at any rate let Mr. Schneider back in… what do we do?” Peter whispered into Mike’s ear. Mike gave a shrug of his shoulders but gave Peter a look that said he was thinking of a plan. 

“Morning there, Davy,” Mike called out, giving Davy a little wave. 

“Good morning, Michael,” Davy replied, his smile still plastered to his face. 

“Peter, why don’t you go to the store now. Get those donuts and some coffee on your way home,” Mike suggested, as he made his way over to the dining table to take one of the two available seats. Peter frowned at Mike, confused as to why he’d want Peter to leave the house at such a time. Shouldn’t he instead go upstairs and get Micky so they could get Davy to tell them what had changed? But Mike just nodded his head as if to say, go along with it Pete. So Peter went to the front door and pulled his shoes on. 

“Okay Mike, I’ll be back in a little bit, I won’t be long,” Peter promised. He noticed the scowl Davy was giving him, as if him leaving was ruining something. 

“Peter! Peter, please don’t forget the donuts okay man,” Micky suddenly said from the stairs as he was coming down them, still clad in his PJs. 

“I won’t Micky,” Peter assured his friend, before exiting the house, a sickening feeling still growing in the pit of his stomach. This didn’t feel right. Micky frowned when he saw who was sitting at the dining table. 

“Oh c’mon man, this dummy nearly made you cry last night and now you’re sitting with it like it’s your best friend? What’s up with that? I thought Mike and Peter put it in the trash anyways, so’s we could be rid of it,” Micky exclaimed, gesturing towards Mr. Schneider. 

“Oh Micky, are you afraid of Mr. Schneider now?” Davy teased. Micky stared at Davy, open mouthed. He was about to say something when Mike got up and pulled him over behind the stairs, out of earshot of Davy. 

“Mike, what’s going on?” demanded Micky. 

“Dunno. I sent Peter out because you and I have to figure out what’s wrong with Davy. Hes acting real weird and I don’t think he’s cos he ain’t gettin’ enough sleep,” Mike informed him. Micky’s eyes widened. 

“Do you think… do you think Mr. Schneider maybe did some mind voodoo on Davy or something? Like… I don’t know, like some sci-fi movies do it?” Micky asked in a hushed voice. Mike narrowed his eyes at Micky, unsure whether he was serious or not, but of course that did make sense, oddly enough. 

“Maybe Mick, I mean, that’s not the weirdest thing that’s happened on this show,” Michael shrugged. 

“Mike! We gotta figure out a way to help Davy then!” Micky nearly yelped. 

“I know man, I know, but I’m a little outta my depth here, ya dig,” said Mike. Micky gave Mike a conspiratorial look and leaned in a little closer to the texan. 

“I got this man, I’ve seen so many sci-fi movies, you won’t believe it,” Micky grinned. 

“Wouldn’t I?” deadpanned Michael, who had in fact seen just as many sci-fi flicks as Micky had, along with the other boys, considering that Micky could only rent the movies from the store and had to watch them at home and all four of them would watch together. Micky rolled his eyes. 

“C’mon man,” Micky said seriously, “All we gotta do is get Davy to shake off Mr. Schneider’s control long enough to get him outta here and get him talking to us about what Schneider wants. Then we get rid of Schneider and we can all go back to normal.” 

“Okay, sounds like the best plan we got,” Mike agreed. They nodded to each other and walked back to the table. 

“What were you lads talking about back there?” Davy inquired, the look on his face making shivers run up Micky’s spine. 

“Nothing much, Mick just wanted to know if he could switch up the tempo of ‘Last Train to Clarksville’,” Mike lied and the way he said it, Micky almost believed it himself, “Told him the tempo was fine but we could play round with it a bit maybe during practice later today.” Davy nodded, seemingly convinced as well. 

“Gee, I hope Peter gets back with breakfast soon,” Micky commented, wandering over to the fridge to get some juice, hoping he was acting normal enough. 

“Pete’ll be here soon enough Mick,” Mike assured him, “And I’m sure your stomach can handle being hungry for just a bit longer.” 

“Want some juice, guys?” Micky asked, getting down a glass for himself. 

“Sure,” said Mike, standing up and coming to get his glass of juice. 

“No thank you Micky,” said Davy, his voice not sounding like Davy’s. It made Micky nearly cringe. Mike glanced at Micky and poured himself a cup of juice, handing the carton to Micky when he had finished. Before he could even tip over the carton, an explosion of pain erupted in the back of his head. Mike gasped as Micky collapsed in a shower of shattered glass. Davy had hit him over the head with the mug he had been drinking out of that morning. Mike backed up but Davy shot his hand out and yanked Mike forward. Picking up the juice glass that Micky was going to use, Davy crashed the glass on top of Mike’s head, dazing the guitarist. 

“Davy, please,” Mike gasped, blinking away stars. Davy said nothing, he just picked up the full juice glass that was Mike’s and hitting Mike with that. This time it worked. Michael dropped to the floor, just like Micky had. Davy looked at down his friends, a shallow pain pounding against his temples. He looked back up to Mr. Schneider. Then he bent down and began tying up Micky and Mike.


	5. Chapter 5

It had taken Peter longer than he had originally thought getting the donuts. The place had been packed to the brim, leaving a forty minute wait for donuts, but at least they were cheap. Peter drove home, after finally getting the coffee and donuts, along with the groceries of course. He pulled up into the driveway and gathered the stuff he had bought. Opening the front door was a bit tricky with his arms full, but when he had knocked for someone to open the door for him, no one had answered. Once inside, Peter put the donut box onto the chair near the front door so that he could better put the groceries away. That was when Peter noticed how quiet it was. He looked around and nearly dropped the coffees when he saw Mike and Micky. They were tied to chairs with some rope. Peter ran over to them, almost throwing the two brown grocery bags and coffee cups onto the table. 

“Guys! What happened?” Peter exclaimed, kneeling down to untie them. 

“No Pete, lookout!” Mike cried. Peter glanced behind his shoulder just in time to see Davy rushing at him with one of the larger various knick knacks that were scattered around the pad. Peter rolled away just as Davy brought the knick knack down with a good amount of force. It collided with Micky’s knee and the drummer shouted, “Ow, god!” Davy whirled around to try to hit Peter again, but the bassist had scrambled to his feet, hands out and palms open. 

“Davy, Davy stop!” Peter said, slowly backing away. 

“Just hold still Peter, this’ll be over soon,” Davy instructed, advancing towards Peter with the knick knack in hand. 

“Davy you aren’t yourself man, you know that and I know that. You wouldn’t tie up Mike and Micky on a normal day, you know that,” Peter pointed out, stalling for time as he tried to come up with what to do. Mike still seemed daze, although it seemed like he was awake, and Micky was struggling against his bindings. 

“Stop moving!” barked Davy, lunging forward. Peter dodged the smaller man and leapt over the lounge chair to keep something between him and Davy. 

“C’mon Davy, it’s me, Peter. I’m your friend. You don’t really want to hurt your friends, you know that,” Peter insisted, glancing over at Micky and Mike, trying to mentally tell them to fill him in on what had happened. 

“Schneider’s got a mental hold on him Pete!” Micky shouted, almost as if Peter had mentally communicated with him. He leaned over and whispered to Mike, “Hey man, you okay?” 

“Yeah, just wet and smelling of orange juice,” Mike answered. 

“I really hope this doesn’t turn out like my dream did last night,” Micky whimpered. Mike glanced at him, frowning. 

“Okay Davy, you hear that, you hear what Mick just said. It’s Mr. Schneider, man, getting you all messed up in the head. You don’t really want to hurt us, Davy, we’re your friends,” Peter repeated, edging around the lounge chair as Davy moved. He had fallen silent and a frown had creased his brow. 

“Peter’s right, Davy, you don’t wanna do this man,” Mike chipped in. Davy glanced back at his two trussed up friends. 

“Yeah, yeah just let’s all take a deep breath and calm down,” Micky agreed, wincing in pain as he moved his one leg. 

“Let’s just put down the knick knack Davy, and we can help you. We won’t let Mr. Schneider hurt you okay,” Peter said gently. Davy blinked several times and then suddenly the knick knack dropped from his hand, crashing to the floor with a loud noise. 

“I don’t…. please… I…,” Davy stammered, his bottom lip trembling. Peter stepped over the lounge chair and took Davy by the hands. 

“It’s okay Davy, you’re gonna be okay,” Peter reassured him. 

“Please… you have to…,” Davy began but he doubled over suddenly before looking at Mr. Schneider who was still sat at the dining table. 

“Tie him up Pete!” Micky cried. 

“And then come an untie us,” Mike added. Davy nodded his agreement as well. He seemed to be in pain. 

“I umm…,” Peter began, unsure of what he was supposed to do. 

“Please Peter,” Davy insisted. Peter blinked back tears, the terrible feeling in his stomach nearly overwhelming him and he fought the need to vomit. He brought Davy over to where Mike and Micky were tied up, then he knelt down and untied Mike. Mike got out of the chair and helped Peter tie up Davy. Peter then untied Micky. He tried to stand but sat back down immediately. It hurt too much to put weight onto the leg that Davy had hit with the knick knack.

“Sorry… I’m sorry… I-,” Davy began to say but then he began to laugh, “This won’t help for long.”

“Mike, what do we do?” Peter whimpered. 

“I got an idea that I thought of while tied up,” Micky announced. Mike held up a hand for Micky to stop talking. He nodded towards the bedroom. Davy continued to laugh as the three retreated back to the bedroom, Mike and Peter helping Micky. Mike shut the door behind them as Peter helped Micky over to his bed. 

“Why’d we come in here?” Micky wondered. 

“So’s you can talk ‘bout your plan without the dummy hearing,” Mike explained. Micky nodded, understanding now. 

“Mike, you’re bleeding,” Peter gasped, going over to his other friend to look at the scratch that was running along Mike’s forehead. Mike brought his fingers to the wound and felt the blood. 

“I’m alright Pete, don’t worry,” Michael assured his friend. Peter didn’t seem convinced. 

“We can worry about Mike’s forehead and my leg after we get rid of Mr. Schneider and help Davy,” Micky snapped. 

“Mick’s right, Peter. We gotta help Davy first,” agreed Mike, “What’s your plan then Micky?” 

“We gotta fool both Mr. Schneider and Davy. So I’m thinking we’re gonna need some ketchup and fake knives,” Micky informed them. 

“Where we gonna get fake knives, ya goof?” Mike asked. 

“Under my bed man, I got them in that magician package I ordered from the mail a couple of weeks ago,” Micky explained. 

“Oh, that’s convenient,” Peter grinned, trying to make himself feel better, despite wanting nothing more than to get a bandaid for Mike and take Micky to the doctor’s to get his leg looked at. But of course he also wanted to help Davy. 

“Alright then… so what do we do when we’ve got all that?” Mike questioned. 

“Well, we gotta make it seem like Mr. Schneider got to us too. Like, I think Mr. Schneider made it so that Davy was so tired his mind couldn’t resist Mr. Schneider’s voodoo mind magic or whatever,” Micky continued, “And so if we set Mr. Schneider adrift in the ocean, then pretend to get under his influence, and we stab each other and squirt some ketchup out so we look like we’re bleeding and then wham! Davy will be out of the dummy’s influence.” 

“Wait a sec man, what makes you think that’ll work?” Mike pressed. 

“It’s a gut feeling plus that’s what the script told me to say so I’m guessing it’s gonna work,” shrugged Micky. 

“Oh okay, makes sense,” Mike agreed. 

“Yeah, it sounds like a plan,” Peter nodded reluctantly. 

“Great, so someone’s gonna have to help me walk and then we gotta get Mr. Schneider and Davy down to the beach,” said Micky. So it was decided that Peter would help Micky walk down to the beach and Mike would handle Mr. Schneider. After that decision was made, the three fellows exited the bedroom. 

“Okay Davy, we’re gonna get rid of Mr. Schneider once and for all,” Mike announced, untying Davy from the chair. 

“Are you now?” smirked Davy. Before Davy could do anything, Mike quickly went to where Mr. Schneider was sitting and picked up the dummy. 

“Put him down!” Davy shrieked. Mike ignored him and headed to the back door. Peter sat Micky down and ran upstairs for the fake knives, which he stuffed into his pant legs. Once he came back down, he grabbed a bottle of ketchup. Then Peter and Micky walked as quickly as they could, following Mike. All three of them were holding their breath, wondering if Davy would try to attack one of them somehow on the way to the beach. But he didn’t, for some unknown reason, and they all managed to make it to the beach without a hitch. Once they were on the beach, Peter sat Micky down in the sand as Mike kept on going into the ocean. 

“No!” Davy screamed and lunged forward, the waves preventing him from reaching Mike in time. Mike kept walking, though, until the waves were hitting his chest. Then he released the dummy and the waves began pulling it into the wide open sea. Davy screamed and, after reaching Mike, pounced on the guitarist, pulling him under the water. A bolt of fear went through Peter and he went to go help, but Micky grabbed the bassist’s ankle. 

“Stick to the plan, Pete,” Micky hissed. Peter nodded and took a shaky breath. Tears were brimming in his eyes. Even pretending to kill someone didn’t sit well in Peter’s stomach. Now that he was in this moment, Peter wasn’t feeling so good about this plan. Peter took out one of the fake knives as Micky laid down, beginning to scream as convincingly as he could. Peter squirted some ketchup onto Micky’s chest and he placed the fake knife onto the chest, waiting for Mike to get Davy back onto the beach. Sure enough, a few minutes later, Mike was able to get ahold of Davy’s waist and hauled him back onto the beach. Seeing that the plan was going accordingly, Mike shouted, “Peter what are you doing?”, as angrily as he could. He dropped Davy onto the sand and ran towards Peter and Micky’s “dead” body. 

“I’m sorry Mike,” Peter nearly sobbed, his breath hitching. He was properly crying now, not for the effect of it but just because he didn’t want to do this plan anymore, but there was no other choice. If he copped out now, everything would be ruined and Mr. Schneider would come back and Davy wouldn’t be safe. Mike saw the distress his friend was in but couldn’t stop to comfort him. He merely kept running towards Peter. As he did so, Peter squirted ketchup onto Mike’s chest, like he did to Micky’s, making sure that Davy couldn’t see the bottle. Davy was just staring, open mouthed, almost as if he were in shock. Peter held up the fake knife and when it made contact with Mike’s chest, Mike did his best scream. 

“Oh god,” he cried and then collapsed onto the sand. Peter couldn’t stop crying but it was the last half of the plan. Peter knelt down next to Mike, making sure his back was turned to Davy. He drenched his shirt with ketchup and then hid the ketchup bottle behind Mike. After that was finished, Peter stood up and faced Davy, stabbing the fake knife onto his shirt. He quickly dropped the knife, dropping to his knees. He looked up at Davy, making eye contact, before collapsing much like Mike had. The three of them stayed as still as possible. For a very long minute, a very terrifying minute, Peter thought the plan hadn’t worked. But then Peter heard a sob. 

“Oh god, oh god! Guys? Guys?!” Davy sobbed, rushing towards his friends’ “dead” bodies. Everything had suddenly came crashing around him as Mr. Schneider released his hold on him. There was nothing left. Mr. Schneider had gotten what he wanted and Davy was beginning to hyperventilate. He rushed to Peter’s side, picking him up and shaking him. Mike and Micky had to be dead already, Peter should still have time, but oh god, Mike and Micky had to be dead, everything was crashing and Davy couldn’t keep up with everything he was feeling. But then Peter opened his eyes and Mike sat up and Micky too, and Davy began choking on air. 

“Davy, Davy don’t cry, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Peter began to babble, instantly wrapping his arms around Davy’s shaking frame, squeezing him tightly. 

“What’s… what’s going on?” Davy asked, taking very deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself down. Micky explained the plan that he’d come up with while tied up and Davy cried a little more. Peter refused to let go of Davy until he stopped crying, which was about five or so minutes. After Davy had calmed down a bit, Mike told Peter to take him back up to the pad. 

“What’re you going to do, Mike?” Peter asked, not wanting any of them to be apart. 

“I’m gonna take me and Mick down to the good ole doc’s, get ourselves checked out an all that,” Mike explained, helping Micky up to his feet. Although he wanted to argue, Peter knew it wasn’t going to get any of them anywhere. So Peter and Davy went back to the pad, and Micky and Mike loaded into the Monkeemobile. While they waited for Micky and Mike to come home, Peter made Davy some tea. 

“Are you feeling better now Davy?” Peter asked as he handed Davy the tea. 

 

“Thanks Peter,” Davy said, “Yes, I feel much better.” Peter sat down next to Davy. 

“Why… why did Mr. Schneider do it Davy?” Peter questioned after a moment, adding with sympathetic look, “Of course, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” Davy stared down into his tea. It smelled horribly and he was almost reluctant to ingest it. But Peter had seemed to put a lot of effort into making it and so he took a tentative sip. Despite it’s horrible smell, the tea wasn’t half bad, although it was definitely more like slightly flavoured hot water than actual tea. 

“Can I wait till Micky and Mike get back? I think you all deserve an answer,” Davy replied. Peter nodded, smiling as reassuringly as he could. 

“Of course Davy! Can I get you anything else, Davy?” said Peter. Davy shook his head, giving Peter a pat on the shoulder. 

“No Peter, I’m alright now. Thank you for everything man,” Davy answered. For about three hours, Peter and Davy sat around, talking and eventually they played a game of cards. Peter was glad to see Davy back to his old self. Then there was a knock on the door and Peter opened it to see Micky and Mike. Micky had a cast on his leg and some crutches. 

“You guys okay?” Peter asked as the two of them entered the house. 

“I’m fine. Micky just suffered a simple stable fracture,” Mike informed Peter. 

“I’m really sorry guys, I didn’t mean-,” Davy began, standing up, but Mike cut him off by saying, “Davy, don’t worry bout it, okay. We all know you weren’t doing what you did willingly.” 

“We can use my cut of gig money to pay for the hospital bill,” Davy insisted though. 

“Ah nah man, it won’t cost too much, I mean, as long as we get a gig soon, that is. Plus, I’ve always wanted a cast,” Micky joked. 

“Now can you explain why Mr. Schneider did it?” Peter piped up. Davy nodded and they all settled down at the dining table. 

“Mr. Schneider was possessed by a demon that was hired by the devil to get rid of us because the devil has a band and apparently… apparently we were just too much competition for Satan’s band,” Davy explained. 

“Like the devil that sold Pete a harp once?” Mike frowned. 

“Yes, the one and same,” Davy confirmed with the nod of his head. 

“Wow, guess that makes us a pretty good band,” Micky grinned. Mike shot him a disapproving look. 

“Well I’m just glad we’re all okay and we don’t ever have to worry about Mr. Schneider ever again,” said Peter, relieved that everything that had happened was in the past now. 

“I think we all are,” Mike agreed. And so the boys made dinner and they played a game (one that wouldn’t overexcite Micky) and then they all, finally, went to bed. 

 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry these last two chapters weren't up earlier. But here they are. Thank you so much for reading this! I really do hope you enjoyed it. :)


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